Lady of the Bronx- Newsies

Chapter six

I would just like to say, the story in the chapter is a odd story I read back in Elementary school. I forgot all about it until a bit ago. It was hard to find all the information; its been retold many times. I'm sorry if it gets a tad confusing. 

Regardless, enjoy the chapter!

Pov:Bambina

I leave just in time, because the moment my feet touch the ground, I hear Spot's bedroom door creak open.

"What was dat?" I hear a voice ask.

"What was what?" Spot snaps, playing dumb.

"All the screamin an' such. It didn't sound like english, or like a boy."

I freeze for a moment, then sink into the shadows. I have to overhear this first before I head home. I press my back against the building, my only light source being the moonlight reflecting off the water nearby. That, and the candle light streaming from Spot's window. 

Spot lets out a harsh laugh. "You'se think there was a goil Newsie up here? Really Jack? Nah, nah. It was a younger boy, they'se voice was still higher. Nine or ten or so."

There's silence for a while; I hold my breath, a heavy feeling in my chest.  "And who's would stab a ten year old boy, Spot?" Jack asks.

"I'se didn't ask."

"What does ya mean you'se didn't ask!" He yells. The sudden loudness makes my heart skip a beat. I wish I could see everyones faces right now, voice alone can be hard to decipher. 

"I'se was caught off guard! They'sa were yelling at me in Italian, and for a moment before hand I'sa was wonderin if they'se could even talk!" Spot rebuttals.

"You'se got told off by a child? I call Bullshit on that Mr.King of Brooklyn!" Jack yells.

"Did ya even know what they'sa might be sayin?" This time a new voice asks. But it sounds oddly familiar....

"Of course I'se did! Quarter Italian, remember?" I notice his tone is much more cold vs how he sounded speaking to me. Why?

"He'sa speaking Italian?" a different, unknown voice asks.

"Lei parlava italiano," Spot huffs. She was speaking Italian. I hide my smile,

"Well Spot-"

"Wait. What did you'se say? The sentence in Italian." The unknown, but familiar voice asks. My smile falters. 

"Like I'se gonna tell you'se, what's you'se name? Ricky."

It's quiet, and then I hear it. "She. You said Lei. It wasn't a boy, was it?" Ricky says.

My blood runs cold. A terrifying coldness settles in my chest. People in the Bronx and Manhattan know I'm a girl.

The silence after that is anwer enough.

"A goil Newsie? Why'se didn't you'se tell us?" Jack asks.

"I'se swore on Brooklyn, I'se swore I'se wouldn't tell who'se they are or her name. Or that she's a goil. You'se better not tell anyone either! I'se didn't know this one knew a lick of Italian. I'se only know a bit. I'se know Irish better. " Spot confesses, sounding angry. 

There's a huff, "I'se forgotten most of my Italian.But I'sa remembered what it sounded like. Just haven't heard nobody that fluent in a while." The Ricky guy says.

"You'se just let that goil walk home alone? In the middle of the night through Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, and all the way ta da Bronx?! Are you crazy?" Jack says.